The Shortest Distance
by such a dreamer
Summary: [RonxHermione] ..."The shortest distance between two people is a smile"...Ron knows this for sure. As he reflects on it, she keeps on smiling. If only one of them could say what they actually mean...


"The shortest distance between two people is a smile." –Mark Twain

If he was ever asked to indicate what he liked best about her, he wouldn't even have to think twice about the answer. Although there were many things he liked, the thing that stood out in his mind most was her smile.

When he saw her smile, it was as if he wouldn't ever think a depressing thought again. This was his thought alone though, because it wasn't like her smile lit up the room or anything. It wasn't the one thing everyone noticed immediately. In fact, her smile was quite the opposite. It was slow and shy, and the corners of her mouth curved always cautiously. _That_ was what he loved.

Despite her smile, she always seemed to bring out the worst in him: verbally that is. They were constantly bickering with each other, but inside he would never feel better.

When he said,

"Good God, I'll do my Charms essay later, stop nagging," he meant, "It's a good thing you mentioned that, I completely forgot."

When she said,

"For heaven's sake, stop being so immature," she meant, "Thanks for reminding me that I'm only seventeen."

That was the way they spoke to each other, every day. It wouldn't matter how heated their bickering got, because usually their conversations would end with a smile from her, and that made everything perfect. He thought so, at least; he couldn't help but be amazed at her, and stare in awe. She was so beautiful to him, without even knowing. He didn't care that her hair was "unbearable" and her eyes "a dull brown" (Parvati and Lavender's words, not his). The only thing he cared about was the way her smile crept over her flushed face.

- - -

"Reading again, Hermione?"

("How are you doing?")

"Yes, and for your information, this book is quite interesting. It wouldn't hurt you to pick up a book once in awhile, other than _Flying with the Cannons_."

("Could be better, but how are you?")

"I read other books. I just finished the newest edition of _Which Broomstick_ two nights ago. If you want a good read, I could lend it to you."

("Excellent, thank you. I love this…I love how we are together.")

"That's okay Ron; I've got loads of reading to catch up on."

("Me too.")

- - -

Her smile was probably the most important way of communication between them. They would talk, argue and yell, but beneath their words was something more. Words that they meant to say, but never could. He thought so, anyway; he wasn't really sure if she meant what she said or not. He could be just imagining her side of the conversation. Perhaps when she said he was acting like a git, it meant that he was actually acting like a git. All he knew was that when she smiled at him, she suggested something beyond their friendship. He supposed that's why he liked it so much.

Ron jolted from his thoughts abruptly when someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was a shame, too, because he really liked to think about her…it was one of his favorite pastimes. Luckily, she was the one who had tapped him.

"Don't you have any homework to do? Don't you have a Quidditch practice or something?"

("Are you all right? You were off in your own little world.")

"No, no," he replied, still gripping the arms of his chair. She had scared him. "I was just…watching the fire. I finished my Potions homework earlier this evening."

("I'm fine, really. I was just thinking…about something important.")

"Oh," she said, looking quite surprised. "Good for you."

She settled beside him on the couch, and Ron began to panic. How the hell was he supposed to continue his ponderings if his subject was sitting right beside him? For God's sake; their knees were touching! How was a man supposed to keep his bloody head when she was sitting beside him, completely unaware of how he was feeling?

"I saw you talk to Lavender today," Hermione said, shifting a bit away from him. He immediately noticed how her voice faltered halfway through the sentence. "You were acting pretty friendly towards her."

("Why? Aren't you mine?")

"Oh, that," he said casually, although he felt the opposite, "she wanted to borrow a quill. So, I said that I didn't have one and she should ask Harry."

("Absolutely…I can't believe you thought I was interested.")

"She'd better keep away from him," Hermione said firmly, "He's finally got something amazing with Ginny…but he knows that."

("I'm sorry…I was acting a bit daft.")

"Yeah," Ron said thoughtfully, "I thought it would be weird for Harry to be dating my sister. Surprisingly, though, it's not. At all. It's almost…natural, or something."

("I don't think you could act daft if you tried.")

"That's sweet, Ron," she said, reaching for his hand. "I'm going to bed, though. It's getting late."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and he squeezed her hand before letting it go. At this precise moment, Harry came down the stairs from the boy's dormitory, looking extremely tired. Hermione gave him a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying good night.

Ron glared.

- - -

"Aren't you coming, Hermione?"

("Hogsmeade won't be the same without you.")

"No, I've got a lot of things to do in the castle. You know, reading, researching…I haven't even started that paper on the Squib's Revolt of 1783."

("I wish I could go.")

"Oh," Ron said, looking rather dejected. "All right then."

("Don't you ever take a break, Hermione?")

- - -

He found it quite strange that Hermione's smile was so direct, and her words so indirect. Ron shifted in his bed, and pulled the covers over his shoulders. He could hear Harry say something in his sleep, Neville's quiet snoring and Seamus' soft hum. Like so many times before, Ron was loosing sleep over Hermione.

The two of them danced with words, never diving in too deep, for fear that something would happen that they would regret. They skirted the issue every damn day; the issue they both knew was at hand. When would one of them gather the courage to say how they felt?

As Hermione flirted with words and actions, giving him a kiss and then Harry, it was only Ron who she smiled at. And that was so bloody obvious to him, and so bloody direct, that he wondered why she even bothered to be coy. It didn't make any sense…she constantly flittered back and forth on the line between Friendship and Relationship. Ron was getting tired of it. His heart ached for her.

He slipped out of bed, and grabbed Harry's Invisibility Cloak on his way out. When he finally reached the kitchens, Ron realized that he was even thirsty anymore. He couldn't recall if he had been thirsty in the first place. It was there that Ron decided he wouldn't detour his feelings any longer…he had to tell her. Soon. Ish.

- - -

"I don't understand why you don't tell her," Harry said, looking at his friend expectantly. "You obviously know how she feels. I think everyone knows how she feels."

"I don't know," Ron moaned, running a hand through his hair. "I have no excuse…but it's Hermione, you know? I mean…_Hermione_, my other best friend."

"She's my best friend, too," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "This isn't rocket science, it's Hermione."

"You're not in love with her, you dolt!"

- - -

This was too perfect, Ron thought to himself. They were all alone; Harry had gone to see Ginny after dinner; and the other two were left walking to the common room. There wasn't anything to hear, only their footsteps echoing off the stone floor. Every few yards, a candle had been lit on both sides of the wall, casting a romantic (although Ron wouldn't admit this to anyone) glow.

"All right, Hermione," he started, touching her elbow to stop her. "I think we need to talk about a couple of things."

("I think we need to talk about…us.")

"Oh," she said, looking at him closely, "Like what?"

("Please, don't ask me questions about Potions or Transfiguration…please, please, please!")

"Well," he started, clearing his throat, "We're friends, right?"

("Help me out, here!")

"Um, yes," she said, talking slowly. "I'd say we're more like best friends."

("I'm trying!")

"Right," he agreed, "Well, you see…I care about you, Hermione."

("I _really_ care about you.")

She lowered her eyes, and turned a delicate shade of red. "I care about you too, you know that."

("I really care about you too.")

Again, Ron had to clear his throat and began to fidget with the hem of his sleeve, "I don't care about you the same way as I care about Harry though. You're different than Harry."

"So maybe," she began, "we should…"

("Finally!")

She didn't take her eyes of his, but managed to link their hands together. He stepped closer to her, barely breathing, "Yeah."

"I love this," she stated, shaking their connected hands.

("I love this.")

"I love it too," he agreed, feeling as though he hadn't ever been so happy.

("I love it too.")

Hermione smiled up at him; that brilliantly blinding smile, and he found himself grinning back.

END.

Note: I don't really know what this piece of fanfiction is. I don't even know if it makes sense. Try to give me your opinions though, this time I would really appreciate it. Read and review, thanks guys.


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